


can you rewrite a tragedy thats finished?

by transclawed



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Gen, tags will be updated as chapters are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21329929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transclawed/pseuds/transclawed
Summary: an alternate reality where mallory, who's always been healer, tries to save michael when she goes back in time. tries to heal the devil out of him, so to speak.what can i say, im a sucker for characters forever destined to a tragic end. also i thought the fact that she ran him over with a car was really funny and stupid. not saying i dont get why they did it, but that doesn't mean i have to be a fan of it. enjoy!
Relationships: Michael Langdon & Mallory
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i plan on having at least a couple chapters, probably wont be extremely long ones. let me know if you want more!
> 
> (ps) i dont intend for this to be shippy at all, since i see it as michael is a kid who's forced to grow up too fast(like, literally) and has to deal with it, but i cant stop anyone who wants to read it as ship.

the car skids to a stop in front of him, and she steps out.

"oh,"

she says. somehow, she expected him to be younger. he's teary-eyed and trembling, and he simply stops, watching her. his face is an open book and a small part of her relishes it, remembering how unreadable the michael she knew had been. but she doesnt allow herself to dwell on it, she doesn't know how long she has, here, now.

he's a living, breathing, portal to hell, standing there before her. mallory wonders what that sort of thing does to a person. she supposes she's seen the answer to that question, and takes a breath, calming herself.

"im here to help you. please, stay. im not going to hurt you, alright? i promise."

he doesnt say a word, eyes narrowing in confusion, but theres a nod she can decipher, beneath the shaking. perhaps he simply doesnt know what else to do.

when she reaches out to heal him, to reverse the damage, to help, it burns like nothing else. like acid below the skin, against her very self, and she recoils with a speed she'd never known she had. an attempt to save michael langdon would never be a simple fix. this isnt a broken leg, or a body that simply needs life breathed into it. the heat surrounding him rises, as if in reaction, and its so hot its hard to breathe when she tries to take a breath. she does anyway, and blinks away tears as she holds a hand out again, this time just... searching. feeling. trying to understand, to map out the damage in her head. michael simply stares at her, and lets her. theres no automatic reaction if theres no danger, and so she sees. she sees him.

his soul, is what she sees. it is sick and it is swollen like an overripe fruit, leaking with disease, with infection. with corruption. with real, honest evil. whats left of the human part of him is hard to find, but after a moment or two, she does. its curled up and shuddering in the farthest corner of himself, waiting for the inevitable aftermath. a pair of pale blue eyes turn to stare at her from the depths, from within the inferno. they almost look pleading, she thinks, and there's most certainly a horrible desperation shining within them but whether its towards her or someone, something else, she doesnt know. is it always like this, she manages to wonder? his body a vessel for a power that was never his, power that overflows and burns and destroys, and leaves him to deal with what's left after?

she knows little, of this michael. he hasn't learned the lesson yet, hasn't understood that his fate is to become the one feared above all. the one with the blood of the world on his hands, the one who refuses to be hurt and so in turn, hurts others and takes pleasure in their pain.

he does not know his fate is to die, broken and alone. but that he could not possibly know, regardless. maybe he knows he cannot escape his birthright, but refuses to accept it. accept, that its futile to fight this, this all-encompassing darkness that will swallow him whole and leave nothing left to be found. nothing but blood and soft lips, grinning at the pain. this is beyond genetic. this is beyond what magic or humanity can fix.

mallory is weeping, and michael is staring at her with childlike confusion. he felt the sunlight warmth of healing, trying to pierce the veil of poison surrounding him, and he felt it extinguished in an instant like a candle flame, too weak to fight the strength of the night. what he doesnt understand, though, is the weeping. he doesnt know who this is, or why she is crying, standing in front of him like he's the last vestiges of mankind, forever lost. he's tired, and theres an ache that returns to his chest when he tries to think about why she would try to heal, to help. he steps back. he knows, somehow, that she wants to help him, that this is no ruse or trick. and he also knows, deep down, that she can't. no one can. there is a cliff that he's been toeing for a while now, and, he imagines that he's moved to stand on one foot at the edge. he can see the girl, trying to reach a hand out and the air is burning, its searing her lungs as she tries to breathe. he's shaking, and the tears rise to the surface as easily as ever but he refuses to let them fall.

he takes another step back, away from her, and then another, and then he's running, he's fleeing from this crying girl who cannot save him. he doesn't know where he's going, but it feels better to run than to stay. to ask. to try, to try and save himself, like always. it wont work. he knows, and he feels the despair. its a chasm that looms below him, eternally hungry and inescapable.

michael langdon runs until his feet are bleeding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mallory follows michael. they chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive never done a work i havent finished in one sitting, so its been pretty weird to break this up into chapters and write them in chunks like this. sorry these arent longer, but i hope you enjoy them anyways!

mallory finds him at a small cafe, a few hours later. she doesn't know how she's still here, but mallory isnt one to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. she carefully sits across from him, warily, as if she's trying to keep a wild animal calm. he looks up and grabs the edge of the table, looking ready to bolt again, and she puts up her hands in a gesture of peace. he stays, but the warmth emanating from him is slowly working its way up, as his nervousness grows.

"look, i just want to talk, okay? no magic. just... talking. can we do that?"

he seems to consider it, eyes darting to the exit and back to her, but after a moment, he slowly leans back. warily, and his fingers disappear beneath the table, leaving behind claw marks deep into the table. mallory knows she didnt see claws.

"what do you want from me? who- who are you?"

his questions ring with the inflections of a child, and once again, mallory almost expects him to suddenly appear younger. he doesnt change, of course, simply glares at her, wanting answers. she clears her throat, letting her hands fall to the table.

"im a witch. im... im here to help you. i thought i could, but.. i dont think i can, just like that. maybe if i knew more, i could try again. you see, im a healer. my name is mallory."

she extends a hand over top of the table, and its like putting her hand next to a fire. its warm. michael takes it, after a moment, and his skin is feverish too, like the evil ransacking his soul is burning his body as well, from the inside out. he gives it a shake, eyes still narrow with distrust and uncertainty.

"michael langdon. you already know me, dont you? and dont lie to me."

mallory is almost surprised at the sharp jab of demand in his voice, but nods as she retracts her hand. she could do that, if she was careful.

"yes. im... i know a different version of you. one i couldnt save anymore, so i came here. to this you. it isnt too late to help you, i can feel it."

he cant help but believe her, even though theres a little voice in the back of his head that says he shouldnt. that she must be lying. but thats not what he focuses on, no, he has other questions.

"why?"

mallory has to pause at the question. to save the world? well, yes, but not just that. to save her friends, her family, the people she loves? to save herself? maybe, now, because she's seen the true cost this is, will be, and always has been, for michael? she considers lying, but only for a half-second, before deciding not to. she had the feeling he would somehow know, and she didnt like obscuring the truth, regardless. she takes another moment to rool the thoughts over in her head, before she replies, measured and slow.

"because im selfish, and i want to save my people. my family. and because you deserve a chance. no one deserves what you're living with, right now. not even you."

he leans back just a bit, trying to look more adult than he was, but he was genuinely listening. considering. then there's a sudden, little twist in his face, and he's standing, hands flat on the table. he winces, forgetting his aching feet, but hides it almost instantly.

"you cant help me, and you know it. i cant be saved."

mallory, bewildered at the sudden change, manages to throw one hand onto his wrist before he turns away. his face goes taut with instant anger, but she's focused, and sensing the hurt in his body, heals it as quickly as she can. the tension in his body fades just a bit, as he cant help but relax at the disappearance of pain, but he still jerks his arm away from her. for a moment mallory actually believes he might kill her, right then and there, but then the moment passes, and the murderous look in his eyed is gone, and he's turning, leaving once again. mallory quickly slides out of the booth and after him, and they both squint at the bright sunlight of the afternoon. it doesnt slow michael much, though, and he hurriedly heads into an alley, planning on losing the witch between all the twists and turns between the buildings.

mallory, on the other hand, is following him with her eyes closed. she's focusing, and his aura, his soul, is something anyone could see from miles away. its easy to keep up, and after only a few moments she is throwing out a hand again, concentrating her magic in one space.

michael feels like he's been submerged in freezing, brackish lake water and scorching, searing flames, all at once. and then there's something being pulled away from him, like he's standing next to a black hole and his very muscle is being sucked right into it, eight from beneath the skin. he's screaming and it feels like days, when it's really only just a few seconds. he feels his knees give, his legs crumple beneath him, and then, everything goes black.


End file.
